


London Calling

by manicmagicat



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bringing Breakfast, Foster Care, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Book 1: Carry On, Skinny Simon, Summer, Worried Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicmagicat/pseuds/manicmagicat
Summary: I spend the whole drive trying to imagine where I’m about to pull up to. I suppose a weird cabin in the woods is out of the question since this address is in the middle of London. I can’t really picture the Mage in his stupid Robin Hood outfit being anywhere else, though. Maybe he’s got Simon stowed away in some apartment smothered in layers of magic with fifteen different locks just to reach the entryway. Maybe he leaves him cooped up in there, pulls him out when he needs him to kill things or blow up, and then drops him back off. Or maybe they’re both there doing weird family bonding activities like staking vampires through the heart.When my phone chimes out that I’ve arrived, I think that Fiona must have given me the wrong address. My brain can’t quite process what I’m seeing. The streets I’ve been driving through have been getting rougher and rougher for the past few minutes, and I finally pulled to a stop in front of what looks like a boys care home.---Baz finds out where Simon stays over the summer. He goes from Hampshire to London and back everyday until Simon lets him help, or at least takes a couple scones.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 11
Kudos: 196





	London Calling

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you're all doing well in these difficult times <3 I asked for prompts a bit ago to try to brighten some days and this in the first in that series! It's taken me a bit longer to get these out than I had hoped unfortunately, but this one is also a bit longer than planned so hopefully that makes up for it! Also thank you so so much to @nikkisunshine for helping me with this and for just generally being a splendid human!

“Alright boyo, I’ve got a job for you.”

“What is it, Fiona?” I ask in exasperation. It’s my summer holiday; I don’t feel like helping her with her mad scheming right now. 

“I’ve found out where the Chosen One is stashed for the summer. I need you to go check it out. Find out what the Mage’s plan is. We’ve got the chance to get the jump on them this time and I’ll be damned if we don’t take advantage of that.”

“You’re already damned, Fiona. Do you really think you’re heavenly material?” I try to keep my face blank at the mention of Simon. Maybe I’ll go along with her scheming after all. I’ve always wondered where the Mage keeps him during the summer. I’m surprised he’s even going to be in one place long enough for Fiona to get a location. I assumed he was off questing with the Mage. He always comes back skinny and beat up, but I figured that was just a side effect of spending your summers in goblin dens.

“Where’s he staying then?”

“Go see for yourself. I just texted you the address. I know you don’t have any plans today and I don’t want to waste any more of my weed on you. Get to it.”

I mutter some obscenities and roll my eyes. But I’m desperate to see Simon and I won’t be the one to drag it out when she’s given me such an easy opportunity. Going all summer without seeing him… Well, I’m glad not to do it again. I grab the keys off the dining room table and flip her the V as the door swings shut behind me. 

I slide into the driver's seat and scroll through my playlist. I put on ‘Dragon Attack’ by Queen. It seems appropriate, like the type of thing I might be driving into when chasing Snow down over the summer. Father’s going to kill me if I bang up the jag, but it’s Fiona’s fault really. If Father wants to wage this war, the least he can do is pay for the car repairs. 

The address is in London, not too far from Fiona’s apartment, but it’s going to take me forever to get home. Honestly, I drove all the way out to her apartment to see her and she just sent me away. If it wasn’t to go see Simon, I might have been able to bring myself to be annoyed about it. As it is, it’s really my own fault for being a disgusting lovesick fool. 

I spend the whole drive trying to imagine where I’m about to pull up to. I suppose a weird cabin in the woods is out of the question since this address is in the middle of London. I can’t really picture the Mage in his stupid Robin Hood outfit being anywhere else, though. Maybe he’s got Simon stowed away in some apartment smothered in layers of magic with fifteen different locks just to reach the entryway. Maybe he leaves him cooped up in there, pulls him out when he needs him to kill things or blow up, and then drops him back off. Or maybe they’re both there doing weird family bonding activities like staking vampires through the heart. 

When my phone chimes out that I’ve arrived, I think that Fiona must have given me the wrong address. My brain can’t quite process what I’m seeing. The streets I’ve been driving through have been getting rougher and rougher for the past few minutes, and I finally pulled to a stop in front of what looks like a boys care home. 

The boys out front milling about and looking out from the windows look hungry. They’re thin, but that’s not exactly what I’m talking about. I’m used to looking at people as if they’re something I’d like to eat, but it’s not something I’m used to seeing from humans. These boys have a deep hunger within them, maybe as much as I do. I can’t exactly describe it, but these boys look as desperate as I feel when I’m wallowing in my shame, scouring the catacombs for rats. My heart drops when I realize that one of the faces among the crowd belongs to Simon Snow. 

I suppose this was the right address after all. Has the Mage dropped him here for the day because he knew Fiona had tracked him down? Is this to throw us off the scent?

But Simon has the same look as the other boys. He’s sitting on the stoop, avoiding eye contact with the boys around him. I think he’s been chucking rocks at the ground, they’re scattered all around him. He’s thin, but there's something even worse about him. He looks… scraped. There are holes in his trainers where they connect to the soles and his clothes are hanging off of him limply. There’s a bruise blossoming on his cheek and his bronze curls have been reduced to an uneven stubble. He doesn’t even look up as the car approaches. I can’t make sense of this. 

I roll down the window and clear my throat, but it doesn’t keep my voice from wavering when I call out to him. 

“Snow!” He looks up with a sort of wild look in his eyes. I would imagine that's related to the bruise on his cheek. I can’t imagine it’s a good thing to get singled out around here. The look doesn’t leave his eyes when he realizes it’s me, but it grows sharper. He stumbles up to the car and hunches over the window to face me. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Baz? Why the fuck would you think it was a good idea to drive a jaguar up to a place like this?” He hisses at me. 

I’m not used to hearing him swear like a normal. If he does, he certainly doesn’t do it frequently. It must be a side effect of staying here. 

“Get in the car, Snow.”

“Why would I get in the car with you? So you can drive us off a cliff or burn me alive and not have to deal with all the mess?”

“If we’re both in the car and I drive us off a cliff or start a fire, we’re both dying. Your sense of self preservation may not be better than that, but mine certainly is.”

He’s looking at me in disgust and bewilderment. My mind is reeling. How do I get him to get in the car? Is the Mage hiding somewhere watching? What is Simon Snow, the bloody Chosen One, doing in a boys home in the middle of London?

“Look, Snow, don’t cause a scene. Get in the car. I’ll bring you back before whatever your curfew is.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” He growls. 

I don’t want to force him to come. I might be able to, as long as he didn’t go off on me. But I don’t want to do that. If this is really where the Mage is keeping him over the summer, I need to help him. And in order to do that, I need him to trust me. 

“Fine, Snow. Stay where you are. It looks like you were having a great time, I’d see why you’d like to stay. I’ll be back tomorrow.” I roll up the window without giving him the chance to answer. I can see him sputtering in the rearview mirror as a speed away. 

My thoughts are going a million miles an hour. I feel a bit nauseous. How the fuck could the Mage do this? I can feel fire thrumming in my veins. I could kill the Mage for this. I start thinking through different ways I could do it. But then I try to steady myself. I can rage all I want about how the Mage is treating Simon, but that won’t actually do Simon any good. I need to leave all the plotting and raging to Fiona and my father and the old families. I know they’ll all do that no matter what. But none of them are going to help Simon. Apparently even his allies won’t do that. So I’m the only one left that can help him. And Simon’s the one that really matters. Fuck the Mage. I’d like to see him dead and I’d like to be the one to send him to hell for this, but not at Simon’s expense. Never at his expense. He’s not expendable. I may be, but he’s not. 

It takes me two hours to get back to Hampshire in the traffic, but I know I’ll be going back tomorrow anyway. I’ll go back every day until he lets me help him. 

* * *

I leave my house early the next day. I tell Daphne that I’m going to Fiona’s and kiss her cheek on my way out. I think about stopping and getting Snow some food on the way, but I know he’ll just accuse me of poisoning it. I ask him to get in the car. He refuses. The same thing happens the next day, but this time it seems like he almost wants to come with me. It’s clear that he’s confused and that I’m not his first choice of company. It’s also clear he’s desperate to get out of this place. Not desperate enough yet, though, to accept my help. 

On the fourth day, I swing by Costas before I go to see Simon. I pick up some cheese toasties and scones, as well as two teas. 

His eyes widen a bit when he comes up to the window and sees the food, but he tries to hide it. As if he could hide anything from me - I’m an expert in the art of Simon Snow. I ask him to get in the car with me, but it’s mostly just because he’s expecting me to. That’s not my goal today. 

“Just take the food, Snow. You don’t have to come with me. I’d rather you eat it out of my line of sight anyway. Watching you eat is revolting.”

“The old families been reduced to poisoning cheese toasties now, have they?”

Christ, the things are wrapped up in a brown paper bag. He can tell what they are just off the smell. This place really must be starving him. I have to make a conscious effort to stay grounded and in the moment, to not let my anger at the Mage overwhelm me.

“They aren’t poisoned. If I wanted to kill you by now, I could have. I obviously know where to find you. Just take the bloody food.”

He looks tempted, but he doesn’t take it. He sticks out his chin in that stubborn way he does and crosses his arms and I know I’ve lost. I nod once and turn back to the road. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” And then I’m off. The food will be cold by the time I get back home. I’ll just cast a **_you’re getting warmer_ ** on it and pretend I’ve just picked it up to surprise Mordelia. And then I’ll take out my frustration on a deer in the woods out back. I thought I’d have him with the food. I thought he’d at least take it, even if he didn’t come with me. But there’s always tomorrow. He hasn’t called the Mage on me yet or even tried to blow me up, so I think that’s a good sign. I know it’s not a sign that he wants to see me. It just means he’s desperate. I’m going to tear the Mage’s head off one day. 

* * *

The next day, he refuses to take anything from me again. But on the sixth day, he takes the food. I don’t stay to watch him eat it, obviously, so I’m not sure if he tosses it after I leave. I don’t think he could bear to do it. He hates wasting food and if he’s suspicious that I’ve poisoned it he wouldn’t be able to give it away to any of the other boys. His hero complex wouldn’t allow it; if anyone was going to die from a poisoned scone, it’d have to be him. I hope he’s eating it. He needs it. I’ve been chewing my lips bloody all week thinking about him stuck in that place. I just want him to be okay, safe and healthy. It’s the least he deserves. I just want to take care of him - I hope he’ll let me do that soon. 

It’s one thing to see him at Watford. There, I wish he had proper soap and not just the school issued stuff. I wish he had nice pajamas, not just the two striped Watford pairs with their scratchy fabric and sterile look. I wish he had posters and pictures from happy summers to put on his walls. But Merlin, at least then he has food. At least then he’s got Bunce and Wellbelove. He always deserves better than what he has, but no one deserves this. I feel heartsick. 

* * *

On the seventh day, I’m determined to get him in the car. He approaches the window as soon as I pull up. I already have it rolled down for him. 

“Please come with me. I’ll cast a spell, I promise I won’t hurt you.” I hold back any biting comments. I can be as snarky as I want once he gets in the car, but right now I just need him to come with me. 

Simon swallows his big showy swallow. And then he juts his chin out in that defiant way he does and gets in the car. I swear not to hurt him and cast **_an Englishman’s word is his bond_ ** as soon as he’s seated. I have Kishi Bashi on to try to set him at ease. Not his violin pieces, but the songs where he’s singing. Simon thinks music without words is pretentious, despite how bad he is with them. I don’t know if I should start asking him questions yet. I decide it’s probably best to get some food in him before I start interrogating him. 

“Where do you want to go to eat, Snow?”

“What?” he says stupidly. 

“Food, Snow. The thing you’re constantly shovelling into your mouth. Where would you like to get it?”

His jaw is clenched and he’s looking at me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve. 

“Why are you doing this, Baz?”

“Look, Snow,” I sigh, “do you honestly want to have this conversation when you’re hungry?”

He thinks on that for a minute, sucking on his cheek. Then he nods and says, “Let’s go to Nando’s, then.”

Simon orders the Thigh and Mighty sandwich, because of course he does. 

I sigh and decide that I may as well get this over with. 

“What are you doing in that home, Snow? Why aren’t you with the Mage?”

“Why should I tell you when you keep everything hidden from me? I don’t even know how you found me, or what you’re doing here.” he says obstinately. 

“Fiona found out where you were staying over the summer. Don’t ask me how, even I don’t want to know how she gets information. She sent me as a spy for the old families.”

“So you’ve been reporting back to them on me this whole time? And now we’re here so you can torture information out of me or something?”

“I’ve not tortured you, Snow. If you think Nando’s is torture then you should’ve chosen a better restaurant. It’s not my fault you have bad taste. And I haven’t reported anything back. I haven’t been taking any of Fiona’s calls or answering her texts. My parents think that I’ve been spending all day this week with Dev and Niall.”

“Why should I believe that? How do I know this isn’t all some big plot to get me to trust you so you can lure me to your secret lair? Get me in with food and then kill me when I’m not expecting it! Seems like your style.”

“I was hardly going to bring a war down on your head right now. You look even more pathetic than you normally do,” I sneer. “Besides, you know I plan to kill you personally. I don’t want the families getting in the way of that. And it would hardly be a secret lair if I was bringing the likes of you there.” I let out a breath, and try to make my next words a bit more honest. “Why would I have wasted all of this time just to kill you in the end? I’m not you, I can actually control my powers. I could’ve set you alight as soon as I found you.”

“If you’re not here to kill me, then why would you be here? It’s not like you care about me.” he almost seems like he’s trying to convince himself at this point. I suppose it’s time to be honest. 

“You know Fiona, she thinks everything is a plot. Bit like you in that way. I knew how you looked when you came back after the summers, but I thought you were deep in the woods killing goblins or something and that's why you weren't’ eating properly. I didn’t know the Mage was just leaving you like - like this. For Merlin's sake, he takes all those taxes from us, the least he could do is let kids that don’t have a place to go stay at Watford over the summer. And you’re not just any kid, you’re the Chosen One, practically _his_ kid!” I let out a deep breath, and I keep telling the truth. “Not everything is a plot, Snow. I didn’t know how bad it was, and when I saw I wasn’t about to leave you like that.”

“He’s not doing it to be cruel. He leaves me with the normals so I can stay close to the language and so I can stay sharp.”

“Stay sharp? You’re not a sword Simon, you’re a child. He’s willing to use you as a weapon but he won't even make sure you're being fed. You’re a person, Snow. You’re not a particularly skilled or articulate one, but you still deserve to be treated like a fucking human.”

“You’re not even human, what do you know about how they should be treated?” he tries to fill his voice with anger, but the words come out wet and wobbling. “And what about the way you’ve been treating me for seven years? Is that how a person’s meant to be treated?” and then he can’t keep the tears from falling. He’s shaking and I’m not sure if it’s from shame or sadness or anger. My heart shatters. He’s absolutely right. How was he supposed to know how people are meant to be treating him, when we’re here acting like this? But I can change that. 

I reach out a trembling hand to the fist Simon has clenched on the table. I place my hand on top of his. He’s so hot that I worry his magic may be bubbling under him, waiting to break free. Nando’s really isn’t the best place for this, but it’s what we’ve got. The Mage can use the money he should’ve been spending on Simon’s childcare all these years to rebuild this Nando’s if anything happens. 

It’s hard for me to be vulnerable at the best of times, but it’s nearly impossible now. But I would do the impossible for Simon Snow. I would move mountains for him. I would cross every line for him. 

“I don’t treat you like a person, Snow? Who’s been checking up on you every day, bringing you food, making sure you’re safe? I know I can be cruel, but it’s the only way I can survive with you around.”

“Why?”

I’m not sure which part he’s asking about, but the answers the same either way. And people deserve to be treated honestly. I don’t want to hurt him anymore. So I tell him the truth. 

“Because I’m in love with you.” and just like that, in a breath, it’s out. He knows. And he can stake me or light me on fire, kiss me or kill me. The goblin head is in his court now. Let’s see what he does with it. I’ve almost convinced myself that he might not kill me, but when I hear him shift, I shut my eyes and brace for the impact of his blade through my heart. 

Seconds pass and as far as I can tell. I’m still alive. Unless Nando’s is hell, which honestly I could believe. I open my eyes and he’s cleaning up the table, sweeping everything onto trays. I have no bloody idea what this means. Simon Snow will surely be the death of me.

But I’m weak, so I follow him as he wordlessly walks back to the jag. I unlock the door and we climb in. The soothing music has lapsed out and the Clash has come on. London Calling, how appropriate. My mind is swimming. He takes in an unsteady breath.

“Are you taking me back to the home? Will you keep coming to see me?”

“I don’t want to take you back there, Snow.”

He turns fully in his seat to look at me, leaning forward. 

“I haven’t got anywhere else to go, Baz.” he says wryly. 

“Come to Hampshire with me, Simon.” It comes out as a whisper, and he’s so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. 

He whispers back, says he’ll come. Warmth is radiating off of him and he smells like buttered popcorn and apple tart. He’s so close that I’m not sure if I can keep from kissing him a moment longer. And then he kisses me. He tastes even better than he smells. My mind is nothing but spiced apples and fresh popcorn and Simon Snow. I raise my hand to his cheek and brush my thumb along his cheekbone. It’s much too sharp and his skin is chapped, but we’ll take care of that soon. I get to take care of him now. I get to protect him now, and I’m never letting go.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for all the Nandos hate in this I’m American and have literally never been to one but it just kind of started and then I thought it was funny so I kept going with it. I apologize deeply to any Nando’s stans reading this. Also, swing by my Tumblr @manicmagicat for updates or just to chat! Also swing by @neongreennarwhal on Tumblr who kindly sent in the prompt that lead to this fic!


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